Friday date with Malcolm

[abyssum_invocat]

Friday afternoon finally came after a long week, and Sinthia was making her way to the Met; she'd stayed in her work clothes, a short navy-blue lace dress, entirely backless. Her heels clicked on the pavement as she waited for Malcolm, leaning back on her hands where she sat on the iron balustrade by the door. She had magnificent balance, watching the crowd as people met and embraced to go inside.

When she saw her date Sinthia raised her arm, waving to Malcolm so he'd see her and Avi, the white dog wearing a harness that marked him as a PTSD service dog, his woven rope lead looped around her wrist.

"I see you survived the work week," she greeted, smiling. "I'm glad you still felt up to meeting us."

Comments

[abrightboy]

He laughed. "You sound like Gil. Of course I survived. I only take necessary risks," he told her lightly.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Oh, who's Gil?" she asked, sliding back onto her feet, brushing her dress down and getting Avi's nose in her hand as he sniffed at her and Malcolm. "There are different definitions of necessary, anyway."

It's all in good humor; Sinthia is glad he came. "I hope you don't mind that I came in work clothes." Heels, dress, discreet jewelry, and makeup are not her normal Friday-after-work attire unless she has a dinner meeting. But Malcolm was hardly dressed casually himself, so she supposed she shouldn't worry.

[abrightboy]

Malcolm was definitely not casually dressed; he'd just come from the station.

"Gil's my boss at the police department; the lieutenant in Major Crimes." He glanced at her. "I'm in work clothes, too," he pointed out, gesturing to his expensive bespoke suit.

[abyssum_invocat]

She lets out an airy laugh, nudging Avi towards Malcolm in a gesture most easily translated as be nice. "I don't think that qualifies as work clothes to most people. Your shirt probably cost more than everything I'm wearing."

Which isn't to say her clothes are cheap; they're not, though they're not bespoke either. But her dress as been tailored, the jewelry is real, not costume, which says enough considering they're diamonds. "Maybe I'll look this lieutenant up. He must be interesting for you to work for him."

[abrightboy]

"He largely raised me after my father was arrested. I admire him a lot," Malcolm told her.

A man in a police uniform crouches in front of him. Flashing lights outside the door. The man runs a hand over Malcolm's hair. 'You're a real hero. Don't forget that.' He hands Malcolm a green piece of candy. Malcolm's hands are small when he accepts it; he's a child.

"I'm happy to help him out."

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia's eyelid flutter momentarily at the flash of memory; she gets a lot more from Malcolm more easily than most people. His thoughts are close to the surface, easy to read.

Her lips curve gently. "I'll have to thank him sometime." Maybe he still has that kind of candy.

[abrightboy]

"For his service? It's basically a vocation for him, more than a job."

He took his wallet out as they stepped inside the museum and walked up to the box office, asking for two tickets, handing money across the counter.

[abyssum_invocat]

"For helping you," she answered. "I don't thank many policemen." When she was little they were emphatically not nice people.

She slid a look at Malcolm for buying the entrance tickets. "I asked you here, I would have paid for us both," he chuckles, tightening her grip on Avi's harness and lead. "I don't want you to think I'm only after your money."

[abrightboy]

"I'm not really sure why he helped me, to be honest. But I'm glad he did. It was nice to have a role model after my father was gone."

When she mentioned the notion that he might think she was only after his money, he laughed. "You can pay for dinner if you think that's a danger."

[abyssum_invocat]

"It would have been nice," she agreed. "My father died when I was young, almost ten." She had not had a positive role model, or indeed much of a role model at all for a long time.

Sinthia smiled at his laugh; she liked it, and led Avi through the doors, his nails and her shoes tapping gently on the floor. He kept close to her, leaning his protective bulk against her knees periodically to remind her of the present conditions. It helped to keep her from spiraling too far, the mild distraction. He could do an awful lot more if she actually dissociated, but she rather hoped it would be unnecessary. "Oh, I will," she answered. "I said I'd cook for you. Do you like paella?" It being mostly rice, and not overly spiced, was easy to eat, and she wouldn't be offended if he only ate a little.

[abrightboy]

"I eat a lot of steamed rice. I'm willing to go out on a flavour limb and try it," he told her. He glanced around. "What do you want to see first?"

[abyssum_invocat]

"It's not very strong," she said. "Mostly rice, some vegetables." Vegetarian food was not a problem for her, and she had thought it would be easier on him.

"Is it terrible if I say you?" she asked. "The flowers, yes, but you foremost."

[abrightboy]

His smile broadened a moment.

"I don't know if 'terrible' is the right word," he said reasonably, "but it might make me hold your hand," he warned.

[abyssum_invocat]

She chuckled. "I think I'm okay with that," Sinthia answered. "I'm left-handed, so..."

She offered her right hand, palm turned out towards him; her left was still unoccupied, safely free in case she needed to move quickly as they walked. "You're sweet."

[abrightboy]

He looked over at her with a hint of a smile as he took it.

"Why did you feel the need to clarify your dominant hand before offering me the other one?" he asked curiously.

[abyssum_invocat]

"Most people aren't left-handed, and I don't let people hold my dominant hand," she reasoned, with a tiny shrug of her shoulders, though she didn't seem offended, or confused. It was normal to her to clarify intent before acting: one of many things that her years as an asset had left imprinted on her.

"And I didn't want you to assume I didn't like it if that happened. Is it strange?"

[abrightboy]

"I don't know if 'strange' is the right word. It just seemed like something that must stem from your conditioning and I was wondering if you know why you do things even more than I wondered why you did a thing," he explained.

[abyssum_invocat]

She chuckled at that, giving a tiny smile. "I know why, yes. I'm used to announcing intent before motion, because I didn't like being hit with things. But the conditioning is hard to break entirely."

Sinthia brushed her hair back from her face, fingertips skimming over a crooked line of a scar around her eye. "That was what came from not announcing my actions one too many times."

[abrightboy]

"Well, I'm not going to hit you with... things," he said. A beat and then "Unless you ask me to again," he teased.

[abyssum_invocat]

Sinthia huffed out a breathy little laugh at that, despite the subject of the conversation.

"Well, hopefully I won't need to ask you to," she said. "But on the subject... Weaponry?" she suggested, nodding to the directional sign, pointing them at the different galleries. "Educate me."

[abrightboy]

When she pointed out the weaponry hall, his eyebrows shot up and he made a little 'ooh' with his mouth and steered them in that direction.

Stopping in front of a case of 18th century pistols, he looked them over with interest.

"The ones in pairs are dueling pistols," he explained. "It was pretty common for..." He paused and pointed at one of the guns in the case. "That one's a replica," he noted. "I wonder if they couldn't acquire both."

[abyssum_invocat]

"You can tell replica from original just by looking at them?" she asked, happy her choicehad made him interested; Avalon behind them was circling, making sure no one else got overly close, generally providing protective and reassuring bulk. He was good at it, being all of a hundred pounds himself.

Yawning to show off all those teeth helped.

Sinthia reached back to pet him, ruffling his ears. "Pretty common for what?"

[abrightboy]

He frowned faintly at the gun, then realized she was talking to him.

"Hmm? Oh. It was common for the aristocracy to settle disputes by duel at that time, even in places where it was illegal. Owning a fine pair of dueling pistols was... like having the best gadgets today. That's why some of them are so elaborate."

[abyssum_invocat]

She cocked her head at him, realizing he hadn't clued into her speaking at first and smiling. "They must have been terrible shots, for so many of them to have lived," Sinthia murmured. "Even taking into account that rifling in the barrels wasn't common yet."

She had, indeed, taken a marksmanship course. In Siberia, under the GRU training. It had served her more or less well.

[abrightboy]

"Well, a lot of the time they were drunk," he conceded. "People didn't get into duels when they were on their best behaviour. Though duels killed some prominent people. Like the Russian poet Alexander Pushkin? Which I guess was bound to happen. The prominence with which they featured in his work suggests it was a pretty common element of his life. The story has it that he got into the duel with his brother-in-law for trying to seduce his wife."